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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527519">Archive Of Their Clone (AOTC)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneaking_UnicornWitch/pseuds/Oriki-Miitad'>Oriki-Miitad (Sneaking_UnicornWitch)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack Treated Seriously, Equivalent of RPF I guess, F/F, F/M, Fic of fiction, Gen, Humor, Lots of them are explicit, M/M, No Beta We Die Like- you know the drill, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Snippets of, The clones write stories, There Was Only One Bedroll, Threesome - M/M/M, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:14:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneaking_UnicornWitch/pseuds/Oriki-Miitad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Many Republic Citizens would be surprised to find out about the many and varied hobbies that the clone soldiers of the GAR used to pass long hours in hyperspace. They’d be downright shocked to find out about this one. Tucked away in the army’s holonet was a server of fiction - written by clones, for clones. </p><p>Vodfic, as it were.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Boost/Sinker/CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex/Original Clone Trooper, Commander Fox/Original Clone Trooper, Isabet Reau/Nala Se, Original Clone Trooper &amp; Original Clone Trooper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Archive Of Their Clone (AOTC)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>[A double pun? In my writing? It's... no yeah actually it's about as likely as you think]</p><p>Some of the writing is soft wars inspired (kark-you-kindly lifted wholesale), so thanks Projie!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Trainer Reau leant against the wall of the training simulator, smirking up at the Kaminoan towering over her. In an instant their positions were reversed, as she crowded Nala Se back against the wall. Hands flew up to her hips, and Nala Se stuttered as Isabet began sucking a dark bruise onto the longneck’s long neck-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The fuck, vod! You can’t have a repeat like that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s my story, my stylistic choice. Besides, I didn’t ask for concrit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s lazy writing is what it is!” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Many Republic Citizens would be surprised to find out about the many and varied hobbies that the clone soldiers of the GAR used to pass long hours in hyperspace. They’d be downright shocked to find out about this one. Tucked away in the army’s holonet was a server of fiction - written by clones, for clones. Vodfic, as it were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was something for everyone, even the most disturbing ‘crack treated seriously’ Reau/Nala Se porn which was considered a rite of passage for Rancor Battalion. The 41st Elite had their own ‘hazing fic’ for shinies, which involved Master Yoda and a wine bottle. Don’t worry, I’ll spare you the details. Some more senior members of their ranks still couldn’t quite look the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order squarely in the eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Particularly popular were the extremely carefully written reader inserts. A general physical description aside (one they all shared, after all), authors made sure not to mention armour specifics, weapon types, tattoos or hair styles. A great deal of these catered to the vode who fantasised about tupping a CC or General.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“In here, trooper.” Commander Fox calls you into his office, piles of flimsiplast stacked high. He’s sat at the desk, helmet on, owning the space as the ruler of this domain. Though he was working on a datapad when he called you in, the red helmet looks up as you enter and the door slides shut behind you with a whirr.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Your blacks are feeling snug, the way they always do on the occasions that you and the Commander of the Coruscant Guard cross paths. Standing to attention, in all ways, you try not to let your feelings show on your face.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ve been bad, haven’t you, Y/N? Someone needs to take you in hand.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A gasp bursts from your lips as a jolt of heat snakes its way down your spine. There’s… there’s no way this is an official reprimand, right? You’ve not read something that isn’t there. He wants you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He strides towards you, and your eyes are drawn to his chest, the fat pecs you know are only plastoid away. His fingers are undoing the clasps on his codpiece and the seals on his lowers as he makes his way through the cluttered space. Then those fingers are on your chin, pulling your face to make eye contact through his visor. “On. Your. Knees-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes you could tell what company the writer was from depending on how they described certain squads, and in some cases it was glaringly obvious it was Torrent’s medic based on the sheer passive aggressive voice whenever they wrote about the five-oh-first’s alpha company’s recklessness, injuries, and impulsivity. Kix sticks a lot of medical terminology in his fic, and usually his stories take place in Medbay. He doesn’t think anybody knows it’s him. They all do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The one thing that unified the vodfics were how diverse they were. Not all of them were smutty (a lot were). There was a smattering of Alternate Universe ‘Prime adopts us all and we move to his farm on Concord Dawn’, ‘General Koon adopts us all and we move to *handwave somewhere humans and Kel Dor can both survive*’, and ‘Marshall Commander Cody steals us all and we move to a settlement on Concord Dawn’ stories. Those fit alongside ‘post-battle tenderly bandaging each other’s wounds’, angsty ‘unspoken declarations before enemy engagement’, and soft Kamino!Core. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Battles themselves didn’t get written about that much, as if everyone had decided they saw enough of that, ‘thank you very much Sir’. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re going to get us caught seetee,” Zag whispered through the quiet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CT-1001 flicked a ‘kark-you-kindly’ in his squadmate’s rough direction as they slipped down the halls away from their bunkroom. Shoes off, so as not to make a sound, the two of them quietly walked down familiar blank corridors towards the mess. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once they reached the door they were looking for they prised open the vent on the left hand side, wriggling into the small space before closing the vent behind them. Shuffling along they turned right, and spilled out of the tube into the large cooking space. Soon they’d be too big to fit in the vent, but that was something to think about another night. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A very small crash from the other side of the room froze them solid in fear, holding their breaths. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally two small clones came round the side of a worktop, wearing second cycle blues and sheepish expressions. They had a pudding cup and spoon each, which they very unsuccessfully were trying to hide. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seetee held his fingers to his lips as he and his batchmate crept through the kitchen, snagging a pudding cup each on their way. Then he held out a hand to the littles, and whispered, “come on, let’s get you back to your pods. You don’t want to be caught out of bed by the longnecks.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boost smirks as Sinker moans around his cock, looking down at the bruises and bites littering his Sergeant’s back and shoulders. The Commander had been thorough with him tonight, had taken Sinker apart piece by piece with his hands and mouth, showing the same care given to his DC-Seventeens before even putting his deece anywhere near him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boost thrusts his hips forward, grabbing at Sinker’s hair and making him look up. Another moan as Wolffe’s teeth bite back down into the meat of his shoulder blade and his hands grab the silver-haired clone’s hips to pull him back on his cock. Sinker’s eyes are glassy as he sucks Boost down, spitroasted between the two of them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Any control their CO had at the start of this engagement has fled, he’s chasing his own pleasure now as Sinker’s moans turn high and needy. His nose is brushing Boost’s curlies when Boost feels Wolffe’s rhythm turn rapid-fire. They’re all so close. Boost pulls Sinker’s hair putting a hand on his throat, and can feel Sinker working his muscles around his length. He fires off, head thrown back, as Wolffe makes a loud grunt into Sinker’s neck and he rocks in and out once, twice, thrice. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sinker’s still trying to move between them as they come to a halt, whining around Boost’s deece seeking stimulation-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stories featured tropes, of course they did. Nobody laid claim to the first mention of ‘Fox’s fat tiddies’ but it became a meme almost instantly, incorporated into a surprisingly large body of works. Fox graciously put up with the stares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Other tropes, though popular, were absolutely not based in fact. The poor vod who’d made a comment that ‘Nautolans don’t actually have 2 dicks, right?’ had been laughed at until Gree had anonymously commented that actually they were correct, but that Zabraks on the other hand… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sudden increase in Zabraki pairings occured, though stories with a disclaimer that ‘yes, I’m aware that Nautolans don’t have 2 dicks, but I think Kit Fisto’s hot and what are you gonna do, sue me? We don’t get paid’ still popped up frequently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wolffe’s oral fixation, on the other hand? Totally true. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some of the stories were really quite nonspecific, and much of it was vod/vod, matching the makeup of relationships among the clone troopers. Some others did contain names, though not usually written by those who featured. Fives was the exception that proved the rule. Still, a fair few involved relationships with nat-borns. Masters Fisto, Secura, and Kenobi were some of the more popular characters, particularly for self-inserts. They went to lengths to hide these from the Generals, until Obi-Wan had walked past Ghost’s rec room at just the wrong time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dramatic readings were not uncommon in the barracks or rec room, and it wasn’t long before he had his chance to shine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘Only one bedroll? That’s alright. No, no, Commander I insist you have it. I’ll take the floor and be fine. The Force sustains, after all,’ said the General, his copper hair shining in the low light.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘I couldn’t possibly ask that of you Sir. You take the bedroll and I will sleep on the floor. My Phase II neoplast thermo-regulating blacks will keep me warm.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fettsake, who the fuck wrote this osik? Shut it Longshot, I’m reading the damn thing aren’t I.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘There’s a reasonable solution, my dear. The bedroll is big enough for two, I’m sure.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are they really? Always felt quite snug to me, and that’s without a genetically-engineered soldier in there too…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, they are not. Suspension of disbelief and all that. Ahem.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘As long as you are sure, General. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’ Cody did his best to calm his emotions, not wanting Obi-Wan to sense him in the Force. His palms felt clammy and his heart was doing its best to beat out of his chest at the thought of sleeping next to his General, to be able to hold him-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Right. Seriously, who the fuck wrote this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, cyare, it’s only a bit of fun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a bit of fun, it’s some odd vod writing about my sex life!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re writing about mine too…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Commander Cody wasn’t invited to star in the next dram reading. General Kenobi did, and the holo damn near broke the GAR network. It was the second most-watched vid, after the bootleg copy of Windu’s final performance of Harido Kavila’s violent Rodian theatre. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone was writing an epic work of Captain Rex sleeping his way through the GAR. At over a million words and counting it was one of the longest pieces on AOTC. When it updated, ripples went through the ranks like wildfire and vode across the galaxy downed tools to see who was the lucky shabuir this chapter. Those who got featured wore it like a badge of honour. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rex… did not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some of the more statistically minded troopers had tried to match the sporadic update schedule with the activity of regiments, but to no avail. Vode featured ranged from Corrie to Marines, and surely no one clone could know such detailed information about each and every one? Batch histories, tats, even specific kinks, made it into the story time after time. None of it was wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here vod, listen to this-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Klack sat on his top bunk, legs swinging through the air as he began to type out his vodfic. He’d already got three WIPs on the go that his brothers were eager for him to finish, but an idea had come to him in the ‘fresher and he didn’t want to lose momentum on it. The barrack door swished open, and when Klack looked up he was staring down into the hungry eyes of Torrent’s Captain Rex.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, seriously? I get a chapter?! Tell me more!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘I’ve been reading your fic, LT, and I’m interested to hear how it might end. But how about a more… practical demonstration?’ Rex stepped back as Klack jumped down from the rack, not caring in the moment about his barely mended ACL tear. He pulled the other vod close as their mouths battled for dominance. Klack let out a moan as Rex licked into his mouth. They barely managed to strip off their armour before they met again, hands roaming over tight fitting blacks. Klack, sniper born and bred, felt small in comparison to the ARC Captain.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘I’ve… there’s oil in my bunk, Sir.’ Klack breathed against Rex’s mouth.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘No need, Lieutenant’ Rex purred”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Klack stepped back, shocked. ‘But… Sir. I can’t, I haven’t!’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Rex moved in close, moving Klack’s hand back onto the crest of his arse, ‘I was hoping you’d take point on this, Klack-’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh Manda take me now! How the fuck does this vod even know about my karking knee?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yep, fair to say if word got out there’d be a lot of questions. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p><p>I'm on tumblr <a href="https://oriki-miitad.tumblr.com/">here</a>, come say hi!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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